


And in time you'll learn to take what's already yours

by Elfo98



Series: Soulmates [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Andrew meets Neil before Palmetto, I forgot to say this, I might add more tags as I write, I'm bad at summaries btw, It says rape/non con but it won't be anything explicit, M/M, Red String, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfo98/pseuds/Elfo98
Summary: "The red string had always been there.While everything else changed, that was the only constant in his life. It was something only he could see, a thick string that nothing could sever firmly attached to his little finger."Or: the one where Andrew can see the red string that connects him to his soulmate, but does nothing about it until, one day, he finds himself following it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii, I'm back with another Soulmate Au because I'm obsessed lately. This prologue is pretty simple, I just want to see if you like the idea so I can write more. Hopefully I'll get to the end of it lol

The red string had always been there.

While everything else changed, that was the only constant in his life. It was something only he could see, a thick string that nothing could sever firmly attached to his little finger. Oh, he'd tried, several times, to get rid of it; he knew perfectly well what it meant, and though maybe once he thought that having someone who might love him was a relief, something to hope for, he hated it now. He'd lost his faith in humanity. Even if his soulmate was out there somewhere, at the end of the long string that went off into the distance for miles and miles and miles, he was sure they were just like _them_.

Just like every abuser that had taken advantage of him during his years in the foster system.

Just like Drake Spear.

He was four when one of the older kids at the foster home started blabbing about her connection with her soulmate. She wanted to meet them someday, when she was old enough; she would follow the string until she found them. At the time he hadn't put much thought into it, he was too little to understand, but two years later his new foster sister – she was 20 - had come home with a boy more or less her age saying he was her soulmate.

And that is when he started wondering who his might be: were they like him, problematic and orphan? How did the connection work? What made a person someone's soulmate? Was it a boy or a girl?

So he asked his sister if she knew. She said she wasn't sure, but that her boyfriend was everything she'd ever hoped for and that was all that mattered.

When the abuse started one year later he began to picture his other half as a caring and strong person that would take him under his wing, that would never use him for personal pleasure like that. He longed for a safe place, imagining it at the end of the red line. And then the hope became so strong he started wishing they'd find him.

Foster home after foster home, abuse after abuse, they never came. He knew he was being stupid, maybe his soulmate couldn't see the string: not everyone was able to, it was something that only a bunch of people could do. But a part of his mind said that they never came because they too were disgusted by him, or worse, they thought he wasn't worth the effort. He was an orphan that couldn't stay in a foster family for even a year, that “caused all kinds of problems to the ones that wanted to help him”, a weight and nothing more.

Yeah. He was exactly that. _Nothing_.

So why would his soulmate want him?

At age thirteen, Drake Spear came to crush his last hope of having a family. He was a wreck by then, the ghost of a once cheerful and carefree boy who'd been hit by reality way too much for someone his age. He wished he could just cut that freaking connection, because he was now sure that nothing good would come of it. He wanted to disappear, and at the same time to clung to the life he had with the Spears because there was no way he would go back into the system.

But then officer Higgins told him he had a brother, a _twin_ even, and he suddendly knew Drake might want to have him too. He liked twins, they were fun, he'd said. He couldn't do that to his own real family: if he could protect something in his life, for once, he would.

So he did what he did best: he made trouble. He set a police car on fire and made sure to get caught. They said he had to go to juvie and for a while, two years maybe, he stayed there. He could finally forget about the red string because there it didn't matter, and played exy because that was the only thing that allowed him to vent his anger even if he didn't care about the sport at all.

The third year, his biological uncle convinced his mother to take him. He chose that time to make his move: he broke out of the building, which he'd thoroughly studied knowing that moment would come, and ran. It wasn't like him to run, to turn his back to problems and avoid them, but if that would keep his brother safe he would do it. Either way, he was so sick of families, and he had no intention of living with a mother that had abandoned him at his birth.

He ran, he took the bus and went out of the state. He realised too late that he was, subconsciously, following the red string.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Should I write more?


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sixteen years, Andrew finally meets his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? I'm being unusually productive lately.   
> Thanks to everyone who read the prologue and convinced me to keep writing this. I hope you'll stick with me until the end!

“Hey, kid,” a voice woke him up from his slumber. A cop was pointing a flashlight against his face, looking down at him with a frown. Andrew was crouched down against the wall of a little alley; he'd been on the road for two weeks, barely eating not to waste the money he needed for buses and trains and barely sleeping because of his usual nightmares. Moreover, he probably had a fever for staying out in the cold of the winter for too long. He wasn't one to get sick easily, luckily he had a good constitution, but there was so much that that could do in those conditions. And he wasn't used to running: he was so fed up on putting as much distance as he was able to between him and California to think about himself. So now he was in a little, anonimous city in Colorado, and the only thing he had left was the red string still attached to his finger: he could feel it, the warmth radiating from it, as if to say he was very close to his other half.

“I'm sorry but this is a private property, you can't sleep here” the cop said with his annoying and professional voice, though his expression betrayed an unusual worry. Andrew stood from his place on the uncomfortable and uneven ground, steading himself when the dizziness hit him immediatly after. He gave the man a bored look and dismissed him with a gesture of the hand. “I'm going, I'm going.”

“Are you okay, kid? Where are your parents?” Ah, there was the nosiness.

“I'm perfectly fine and none of your business,” Andrew tapped two fingers on his temple before he stumbled out of the alley and back into the street. It was still the middle of the night and he'd probably got at least two or three hours of sleep; everything in his body ached, he was hot and then he was cold and not even his warm hoodie could keep him from shivering. But the red string that floated in the air in front of him, illuminating the empty road slightly covered in snow, was a reminder that he had to keep fighting and going.

Looking for his soulmate hadn't been his intention at first; he just wanted to get away and then he would think about what to do. But when he'd found himself actually following the thing, he'd realised that the answer had always been there. Andrew didn't know what he would find - _who_ he would find – he figured he could just watch from a distance for a while and decide later if they were worth the trouble. Besides, he really was curious to see if his soulmate could see the string too, and if they couldn't what would Andrew do? He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell them, because he thought he didn't deserve such connection, nor did he want it.

He walked and walked for what felt hours, with his legs threatening to give in to exhaustion at each step, and soon he found himself in a little neighborhood in the outskirts of the city. Andrew was familiar with those: a few of his foster homes had been in some of them, where the houses were cheap enough for the families to afford the rent, but the atmosphere wasn't really that friendly. Criminals, gangs and drug dealers usually lived there. Almost every night you could hear the sound of a shotgun or the drunken laugh of a group of teenagers. Andrew hadn't liked it when he was little, but he'd got used to it. Still, he was surprised when the string suddenly made a turn just to disappear into a dirty building that looked like it would crumble at any given moment.

Knowing that his soulmate lived there made his stomach flip, and not pleasantly. He knew not to make assumptions until he'd actually seen them, because he was aware about how much looks could be deceiving sometimes, but his young hopes had just been shattered.

He took a step in the direction of the house, but recoiled immediatly. He couldn't just enter someone else's property in the middle of the night and expect not to get shot, even if the curiosity was killing him. So he settled against the worn out fence in front of the building and let his limbs rest. He was so cold, but he was sweating under the layers of clothes. It wasn't a good idea to just lay there, perfectly visible, with all the people that could take advantage of his body now that he was vulnerable. But he was _tired._ And it would soon be dawn anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to... rest, for a few minutes.

He was asleep before he even realised it.

* * *

His instincts kicked in when someone touched his shoulder.

Though he was slower than usual, his arm shot out and his hand closed around his attacker's wrist, who yelped in surprise. Andrew finally opened his eyes, suddenly perfectly awake and aware of his surroundings: the sky was clear and by the colour of it it was probably early morning; the street was still empty, but he could hear the distant sound of cars moving. Kneeled in front of him, looking at him with wide, green eyes, was a boy maybe a year younger than him. His hair was short and black, and his face was too skinny for Andrew's liking, but damn was he attractive.

“Woah, I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to do anything, I swear.” the boy said, lifting his free hand as to make a point. And there, right in front of Andrew's eyes, was the end of the string. If he felt like throwing up before, it was worse now. It was worse because, though he'd never had a doubt about his soulmate being a guy, he'd never expected someone who looked as worse for wear as himself, with the bags under his eyes and a hoodie too big for him as if to hide what was underneath.

Andrew let his hand go, but didn't stop the eye contact.

“I'm sorry,” the boy repeated, more gently now. “I saw you here and... I'm surprised no one has bothered you until now. Then again, no one actually cares about others in this neighborhood.”

“Then why do you?” Andrew struggled to get the words out. His tonsils had swollen during the last few hours.

The other shrugged: “I'm not sure I care, but I can't exactly ignore someone who's passed out in front of my house, can I?”

Andrew swallowed. The guy was kind and even if there was hesitation in his eyes, like he didn't know what to do and would rather run than talk with a stranger, they were also warm. Andrew didn't trust him.

As if sensing that he wouldn't say anything anymore, the boy cleared his throat. “Listen, why don't you come inside?”

Andrew glared at him, an alarm ringing in his head telling him to _run,_ _run,_ _run._ He was too tired to move. “No.”

“I'm not anyone suspicious, okay?” the boy insisted. “I just want to help.”

“No.”

The other sighed, standing up. “Look, I'm not going to touch you anymore, alright? But you're burning up and you need rest. You can't stay out here in the cold and the hospital isn't exactly nearby.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. He could tell he was really trying to help, but he'd had too much experience in this kind of stuff to give in that easily. Even if the promise of a warm bed was appealing.

“You can stay until my mum comes back from work. And I have to go to school anyway, so no one will bother you for a while. I can give you painkillers, maybe make you some tea. And food since you look like you haven't eaten in days.”

“Why?” Andrew asked, because if he was telling the truth then it meant that he was helping on his own volition, and there was no way he didn't want something back. “What do you gain from it?”

The other looked at him like he understood, and Andrew wondered if he could actually see it, the thing that connected them. “Nothing. I just don't want a dead body on my conscience.”

“There's always something,” he replied.

“Not this time. Are you gonna let me help?”

So much for watching from a distance. This guy was already too dangerous, with his unwanted kindness and familiar caution. Andrew really wanted to refuse and get the hell away from him, but his aching body begged for mercy and he couldn't deny that he was starving.

“Alright,” he said, at the same time cursing himself for his weakness. He stood up, gripping the fence when his legs almost gave up, and true to his word the boy didn't try to touch him, burying his hands in the pockets of the hoodie instead. Andrew slowly followed him into the house and into the small living room, which was not so surprisingly empty except for an old couch, the kitchen and a table. It looked like the house of someone who wasn't planning on staying for too long.

“Here,” the boy said, offering him some pills that were probably painkillers, but that Andrew eyed with suspicion nontheless. The other saw it and gave him an insisting look. “I'm not trying to drug you.”

Andrew took them and swallowed them with some water, then settled down on the couch. The guy gave him a blanket that had some holes into it but still served at his purpose, and Andrew sighed imperceptibly of relief when he stopped shivering under the warmth of it. Meanwhile the other had slung his backpack over his shoulder and was heading to the door: “I'll be back in a few hours, feel free to look into the fridge if you're hungry.”

“Wait,” Andrew said, before he could stop himself. He told himself he was delirious, otherwise he would never show so much weakness to someone else. “What's your name?”

The boy hovered at the door for a moment, as if unsure about answering or not. Interesting.

Then he shrugged, looking back at him: “Chris. Now rest.”

Chris opened the door and got out, leaving Andrew alone in his house. In normal circumstances, maybe he would have started looking around the apartment, his curiosity too strong to mind his own business. As it was, he succombed to the painkillers and for the first time in years fell into a sleep without dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the actual first chapter! I don't know when I will be able to update, since school's starting in a few weeks and I still have all my homework to do, but I'm definitely going all the way to the end.   
> Thanks again to everyone who left Kudos and commented under the prologue, and to everyone who read and chose to stay in the shadows.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Andrew have a little chat and Chris confronts his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I made Chris/Neil softer than he is...   
> Well at least we've esablished that I can't write from Neil's POV! lol  
> Hope you'll still enjoy the chapter.

That day Chris went to school and didn't listen to anything his teachers explained. His thoughts were directed to a certain blond boy laying on his couch, wondering what his mom would say when she eventually came home from work. One of the first things she'd taught him was to never let strangers in, because you never knew where they came from or who they might work for. Everyone in this world could be bought and couldn't be trusted. It was always his mom and him, nothing else mattered. But that morning, when he'd gone out for his usual jog and he'd found the boy slumped against the fence, looking sick and helpless, he hadn't been able to walk away. He hadn't been able to ignore him, though he didn't know why.

Maybe because he'd reminded him of himself.

And the look in his eyes... it was the one of someone who's already lost everything, and he could relate to that. He'd been on the run for five years now but he felt like it'd been ages since the last time he'd had something; a home, a place where he belonged, as bad as they might they have been. He was glad his mother had taken him away from his father and his men, he was greatful to her for keeping him alive all this time, but sometimes he wished he could have time to breathe, make friends, _live_.

He was tired of being nothing, a lie.

And when he'd seen that boy looking straight at him like he could, just by watching carefully, take him apart and expose his secrets, he'd felt... relieved. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken honestly with someone. Even with his mom he'd started to lie lately, which didn't do any good to neither of them, but he couldn't express his real feelings to her anymore. With Mary Wesninski it was always _run_ and _hide_ and _don't speak to anyone unless it's necessary_ and _don't dwell too much on stuff, because it could become a weakness._

He knew, deep inside, that she was right. It was a matter of life or death and even if he despised his own life he would always choose that instead of death. And as much as he longed for someone who might understand him, he had to let him go.

As he walked back home after school, he rearshed his speech: to the boy he'd say that even if he wanted to help him until he got better, he couldn't stay because his mom didn't want strangers in their house, and that he was very sorry.

As he entered the apartment he knew he wouldn't be able to say any of it.

There was the boy, his blond hair ruffled on his forehead, his deep brown eyes watching him as he stepped in, the blanket covering his whole body and most of his face. He couldn't do that to him; he looked like he hadn't been under a roof for weeks. His mother's voice kept telling him to push him way, to be careful. He had to go. There was no way he could stay.

But...

_But..._

Chris sighed. “You're awake,” he said instead, because he was an idiot. He was so going to get into trouble for this later. “How are you feeling?”

The boy didn't answer. That was fine, he looked like he'd been hit by a SUV several times anyway. He headed towards the kitchen where he filled two cups of water and put them into the microwave for them to heat up. “Have you eaten?” he asked after he'd looked into the fridge, because nothing seemed out of place. He'd probably slept all day.

Chris turned to face the boy, who looked like he wanted to go back to sleep but didn't dare to do it in front of a stranger. Whatever had happened to him was pretty bad if it'd made him so suspicious. And Chris remembered how he'd started when he'd touched him. That too was a familiar feeling.

He sat on the counter, thinking it might be better for the other if they talked with some space between them. “We could order something for dinner. Pizza? Sushi? I think there might be an Italian takeaway somewhere, we could try that. My mom won't be back until late anyway, and I warn you... she won't like you staying here, but-”

“I'm not staying.”

Chris blinked, then frowned. “You can't go out there like that, I won't let you.”

The boy just looked at him, a bored expression on his pale face. “I can take care of myself.”

Chris snorted: “I can see that.” And remained unbothered by the angry look the other gave him. “Why is it so hard to accept my help?”

“No one gives help for free.”

They'd already established that earlier, and Chris got it, really; his entire life revolved around that simple concept. “But I don't want anything from you,” he replied.

“Not yet.”

“Okay then, is there something you could offer me? Because you don't look like someone who has all that much to give, right now.” The boy remained silent. Chris sighed. “Alright, truth for a truth.”

The other lifted his head, suddenly interested, then nodded for him to go on. Chris leaned in: “Why were you out on the street?”

For a long moment he thought he wouldn't answer, Chris wouldn't if he were in his place. It wasn't any of his business and they didn't even know each other. But then, to his surprise, the boy spoke: “I broke out of juvie two weeks ago and have been on the run ever since.”

Well that wasn't what he was expecting. He didn't look like a little criminal to Chris, but maybe it was his current aura of vulnerability that made him seem docile. He wondered to what kind of person he'd just offered his help, and whether he should ask something in return after all. “Do you even have a place to go?”

“No,” the boy narrowed his eyes. “Why are you not bothered?”

“Should I be?” Chris lifted an eyebrow. “It's not my place to judge other people's lives.”

Because no matter what kind of sobbing story that guy had to tell, his was way worse, and the scars on his back and torso were always there to remind him. He got up to take the cups out of the microwave and prepared tea for the both of them, then handed one to the boy. He was watching Chris like he wasn't sure if he could trust him or not. “Your turn.”

The boy tasted his tea, making an humming sound of approval when he verified that Chris hadn't poisoned it. “Why is your house empty?”

Chris felt the corners of his mouth lift up slightly. Every part of his mind immediatly screamed _dangerous,_ _dangerous_ , _dangerous._ The boy knew where to hit, and that made him interesting and a threat at the same time. “We just moved here,” which was true. “We don't plan on staying,” which was also true, but that apparently caught the other's attention.

“Why not?”

Chris dismissed him with a shrug, it's not like he would be around long enough to find out anyway. They sipped their tea in silence for a while, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. Chris found himself studying the guy's features once more. He looked like he might be strong enough to take on three guys in a fight, but he'd lost weight the last few weeks due to sleep depravation and not eating.

“Are you not going to ask my name?” said boy asked all of a sudden. Chris crooked his head.

“Are you willing to give it to me? If you're on the run, you should keep it to yourself.”

They just looked at each other for a few seconds, like they were having a silent fight, until one of them came out victorious. “It's Andrew.”

Chris smiled. He didn't know if Andrew was his actual name or if it was fake like Chris, but it would do for now. At least the guy now had an identity, and apparently he didn't care much about hiding it. “So, Andrew. Is Italian okay?”

Andrew grunted his response and shifted on the couch so that his back was facing Chris. Chris chuckled and took the phone to call the place.

Twenty minutes later they were eating Italian food together in silence, and soon after Andrew gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep again. Chris took advantage of it to go wait for his mom outside: he didn't want her to find the boy on their couch and die of a heart attack. He braced himself for the scolding that was about to come.

He'd been out there for ten minutes when his mother finally arrived. She gazed at him with suspicion, and he knew already how bad it was going to be. He stood up, facing her. She'd dyed her hair just like him to avoid questions and she wore a matching pair of contacts, but the cold of her eyes was still visible. Even if she was only a bit taller than him, she was terribly intimidating.

“Chris,” she greeted him.

“There's a boy in our house.” he said in French, because even if he knew that Andrew was sound asleep, he didn't want to take any chances. Mary's eyes widened, and she started fumbling with her bag to take out the gun. “I let him in.” Chris said, blocking the way before she could do anything. Her expression turned from anxious to angry in a blink of an eye. “You did _what?_ ”

“I know, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have. But he really needed help, and I couldn't just ignore him when he was just outside our house!”

“You mean, _that_ boy? What did I tell you about helping homeless people? You give them a hand and they take the whole arm.”

“He's not homeless,” he told her, but she gave him a pointed look. “He's a runaway like us. And he's sick, he needed medical attention so I helped him.”

“Well, he can't stay here,” his mother insisted. “Tell him to go away.”

“No. I won't. He has nowhere o go and he would die in the state he's in.”

Mary let the bag fall on the floor and took his face in her hands. Her nails digged into his flesh enough to hurt and leave crescent-shaped marks on it. “Abram, when will you get it? The more you let people get involved with us, the more you will endanger them. Even if you succed in helping him, then what? He'll be another target for your father because he knows us.”

Chris pushed his mother's arms away from him. He was the one who felt sick now, because even if he didn't want to admit it, she was right, as always. “I don't plan on becoming best buds. Once he's better, I'll send him on his way.”

She watched him for a few seconds, looking for a sign on his face that said he might surrender if she pushed some more, but she found none. Mary sighed then, dismissing him with a gesture of her hand. “Whatever, I'll give you a week. If he's not gone by then I'll throw him out, I don't care if he's recovered or not.”

Chris nodded and went back inside, followed suit by his mother who looked at the sleeping figure on the couch with diffidence before she went to their bedroom and closed the door behind her. At he sound, Andrew opened his eyes, gazing first at the door and then at Chris. “She gave us a week.” he told him, and the other only hummed in response. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed! And of course to everyone who commented under the last chapter. You guys make me want to keep writing.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some shocking revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on posting the chapter tomorrow, but I found some time to write today so... here you go! There could be mistakes cause it's midnight and I'm tired and some might have escaped my eye. Either way, hope you'll enjoy!

Andrew wasn't happy with the new arrangement at all, and from the look of it neither was Chris' mother, Norah. She kept glaring at him whenever she was in the house - which luckily for him was rare - and Andrew didn't know why. He didn't trust her; she looked like some of his former foster parents who didn't hesitate before they hit him, and by the way she usually talked to Chris Andrew didn't classify her as mother of the year.

He didn't trust the kid either, with his ability to hit his soft spots that easily; he knew how to play, to dig into someone's mask and expose their secrets, which was also true for himself, but even after three days in his company he still couldn't quite grasp Chris. It didn't help that he and Norah kept their belongings in their backpacks, and that it seemed like those were the only stuff they owned. As soon as Andrew had felt better enough to walk without feeling dizzy, he'd searched around the house for something that might give its residents away, but he'd found nothing. Everything was meticolously empty, which was fishy enough as it was.

From that moment he'd settled on observing Chris from his spot on the couch. They never talked much and if they did it was to decide what they would eat for dinner. Andrew could tell that his presence was starting to weigh on the kid, for whatever reason; he usually avoided his eyes, or stand as far away from him as he could. Andrew had caught him several times biting his lips as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. And he wondered...

Chris had been awfully chatty the first day, but since he'd spoken with his mom that night using a language that Andrew couldn't understand, it was like he'd come to his senses. Andrew didn't know why he felt so disappointed. What had he expected to find? It shouldn't be a surprise that his soulmate was someone as wrecked as he was. That's why they matched.

But that was fine; nothing could ever happen between them. At the end of the week this would be all over.

At the moment, Chris was sitting on the kitchen counter (there weren't any chairs in that damn apartment) with a book on his lap and a pencil in his hand. His lips were moving silently as he read, not that Andrew was _looking_ at them; Chris was definitely attractive, even if he was pretty sure the color of his eyes was fake, but that didn't mean he wanted to jump at him without his consent. He wasn't like _them_. He _wouldn't_ be like them.

That silence was killing him, though, and he wasn't even good at making small conversations but anything was better than staring at the boy and getting lost into memories.

“What's that?” he asked, startling Chris who nearly fell off the counter. Andrew gave him a bored look but he was dying on the inside at the face the other was making.

“My Spanish homework. We're supposed to do some research and write an essay on something that's happened in my class,” Chris shrugged – he did that a lot apparently – and went back to reading as if nothing happened. Andrew wasn't going to let go though.

“Why are you even studying Spanish if you already know French?”

Chris narrowed is eyes at him. “How do you...?” At which Andrew snorted. “Well nevermind. It's mandatory, and I really don't mind. I like languages.”

“How many do you speak?”

“Three. I'm also fluent in German,” the boy blinked, as if he'd realised he'd just said something he should have kept for himself. Andrew smirked: at least he'd got him to spill one secret, who knew how many more he had? “So, what's the research about?”

“Why, aren't you being talkative for someone who doesn't talk that much?”

“Aren't you being awfully silent for someone who doesn't know when to stop talking?”

They looked at each other for a while, waiting for one of them to budge. Andrew wished to know what Chris was thinking; he had a mask of indifference on his face, he looked unreachable and unknowable. Unfortunaltely for him Andrew was very good at tearing down someone else's walls. But then Chris actually smiled, cautious and unsure, as if he was allowing him to have a look behind those walls just once, and said: “You wanna see?”

Andrew crooked his head, thrown off by the sudden change of attitude, and shrugged: “Not if it's in Spanish.”

“It's in English,” Chris stood from the counter and walked towards the couch. Andrew moved so that the other could sit beside him, still leaving some space between them. Chris settled down and put the book back on his lap. “What do you know about soulmates?”

Andrew froze, his gaze falling uncosciously on the red string that connected their hands. It had been hard those past days not to stare at it, with how much it pulsed around his little finger. And honestly he wasn't sure if Chris could see it too. Was that it? The moment of truth?

“Not much,” that wasn't exactly a lie, he'd never been interested enough to do research. “Just that it's rare that someone can see the string.”

“Well I'm studying its history and apparently in ancient times it was very common. In fact, everyone could see it,” Chris opened the book at its beginning and launched into a detailed axplanation of the concept.

Long, long time ago having a soulmate wasn't that big of a deal, but actually finding it was considered a miracle. Whenever someone said they'd reunited with their other half, a huge feast was held in their honor. But that's only because, normally, people died or suffered when they tried to reach their soulmate; sometimes there was a huge, unsurmountable gap like an ocean or a desert or even death that prevented their meeting. Sometimes when someone finally reached the end of the string, it was to find a grave. And when that became unacceptable, centuries later, people started to stop believing in it. They understood that love shouldn't be decided by a string, so they were content in living their lives knowing that the partner they'd chosen was the one they wanted to be with, even if they weren't their soulmate.

As the years passed, many started to forget that the string was actually there, and then stopped seeing it altogether. Only a few still pursued that dream, but were avoided by the crowd that considered them heretics. Now, in the modern era, where everyone could cross the Earth whenever they liked, the concept of soulmates was finally being brought back into society, and that's why people talked freely about it.

“One of my classmates said his soulmate had come to see him. He told us she was a lovely girl that matched him perfectly and that he couldn't be more happy.” Chris said once he'd finished going through what he'd read so far. Andrew had listened to him the whole time without interrupting, interested in the story himself. “I don't get the hype, honestly.”

“Can't you see the string?” Andrew asked before he could stop himself.

“No,” Chris answered, and really, why was Andrew so surprised? “I mean... I forgot how to.”

Andrew's head snapped up at that. It shouldn't be weird, since he'd just heard that it was possible to stop seeing it, but Andrew had tried and tried and failed. And now that guy, the one who was supposed to be his soulmate, was saying that he'd chosen not to see it and had succeded. It spoke volumes about how much he wanted to deny that connection and Andrew knew he shouldn't take it personally – especially when he had decided he didn't want anything from Chris – but he couldn't help his stomach to bottom out at the revelation.

“How come?” He asked carefully, because there was no stopping his curiosity now.

“Are you taking a turn?” Chris replied. “Because if you do, you know I'm gonna ask about yours next.”

Andrew shrugged, confident that his face wasn't giving any of his real emotions away, and told him to go ahead. Chris eyed him for a moment, but answered anyway: “I was able to see it when I was young. But then... some bad stuff happened and my mom told me that having soulmates or... any other kind of partner really, was dangerous. I guess it's because her soulmate died in front of her eyes and she couldn't do anything, but-” he took a deep breath. “Before I could understand what was happening, I had already convinced myself that I wasn't interested in any kind of, you know, relationship, and one day I woke up and the string had simply... disappeared.”

That was the most absurd story Andrew had ever heard, and he wanted to know so bad what had happened. “But you are interested in something after all?”

“I don't know, maybe. But if my mother knew she would beat it out of me,” Chris cleared his throat. “What about you? Can you see it?”

Andrew looked away, crossing his arms under his head. “Even if I could I don't think I would act on it.” He didn't deny it though. No matter what other people might think of him he was not a liar, but ambiguity never hurt.

“Why not?”

Andrew forced himself to return Chris' curious gaze. He wondered what colour his eyes were. Everything about Chris screamed _lie,_ _lie,_ _lie,_ and Andrew hated it so much he wanted to strangle the truth out of the guy. And he also hated the fact that just looking at him made him want to spill all his secrets: “Love is a pointless feeling for somone who doesn't know how to be loved.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but Andrew stopped him: “If you want to ask something else, keep it for another time. I want to rest. Go finish what you have to finish, chop chop.”

It was almost dinnertime but Andrew wasn't hungry. He just wanted to be alone and think about what Chris had just admitted. He felt sick, and he doubted it was because of the fever this time. When the sound of the shower reached his ears, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support. Every kudo, comment and subscription makes my day!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the week. What will Chris do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I'm back with another chapter, though I'm not really satisfied with it.  
> Also, I should let you know that my inital thought was to follow the canon, but I recently changed my mind. I have now a complete picture of the entire fic in mind, and the only time it will go into canon is the epilogue. Soooo, it'll be interesting to see how I fuck up, I guess lol

Chris could see that Andrew was getting better. His cheeks had finally gone back to their natural color and he'd gained a bit of weight thanks to the food Chris gave him. Unfortunately that reminded him that soon he would have to go away, which was... surprisingly, not what Chris wanted at all. For the first time in years he was having fun: after the initial hesitation he'd finally opened up a little and for the rest of the week the both of them had fallen into a strange routine. Chris would go to school in the morning while Andrew slept, then he'd go back to find the other reading that book about soulmates that Chris didn't need anymore; they'd work on the research together, though they agreed not to talk about personal matters anymore, and then have dinner wating for Chris' mother to come home. Sometimes they stayed silent, sometimes they talked, sharing some truths than couldn't hurt any of them. It was oddly comfortable.

This was what a normal life felt like. How he wished it could last longer. But he had promised his mother that once the week was over he'd send Andrew on his way, and the week was, in fact, over. They were eating chinese for dinner, both of them sat on the sofa a few feets away from each other. Andrew had almost finished his ramen, but Chris wasn't hungry. He kept picking on his food with the sticks, occasionally putting some in his mouth. At some point, that must have made Andrew reach the end of his patience because he finally snapped: “I can hear you thinking and it's bothering me.”

Chris cracked a smile. “Well, sorry for being loud, your majesty.”

“Terribly so. Does no one ever complain?”

“Nah. You're the first.”

Andrew snached the cup from his hands. “That was mine...”

“You're obviously going to keep playing with it if I don't eat it.”

Fine, then. Chris snorted and threw the sticks into the trash, then stole the blanket from Andrew's body and covered himself with it. He immediatly felt the boy's homicidal gaze on him, to which he responded with a wicked grin.

“That's just rude.”

“You _obviously_ don't need it anymore,” replied Neil with a mocking tone.

Why did that feel so domestic? Like they'd been doing that their whole lives. He didn't trust Andrew, he was too observant and mysterious, but something about it felt right. He hadn't realised how much he'd lowered his guard until now. That was terribly dangerous.

“I hate you.” Andrew answered, and for a while the only sound in the room was the ticking of Andrew's sticks. “What's going on in that small head of yours?”

“Didn't know you cared,” Chris shot him a glare, engulfing himself with the blanket.

Andrew tsked: “I don't. I just don't want to leave this place with a headache. So?”

Chris hesitated. Andrew was... weird. He was a runaway but he wasn't good at it. He didn't have money, or a place to go, or the kind of knowledge people like Chris and his mother had and needed to survive. Still he refused any kind of help. “What will you do next?” he asked, because that was it, the end of the road, and both of them had a choice to make.

“I don't know,” Andrew shrugged. “Didn't put much thought into it.”

Chris lifted an eyebrow. “You nearly died the first time. You know you won't last long without a plan, especially in this kind of weather.”

“Then what do you suggest I do, Mr Expert?”

“Let me help. I can give you some of our money, enough for you to find a place where you can live.”

“I don't want your charity, and I don't like owing people,” Andrew replied, but it wasn't as harsh as Chris had expected. This wasn't going to work, he realised. Andrew was already expecting a demand from him for letting him in the house and assisting him during the week. There was only one thing to do: choose between safety and selfishness, which, as it turned out, wasn't much of a choice at all.

“Then stay,” he said. Because he'd thrown safety away the moment he'd seen Andrew on the street. And he knew he would regret it later; his mom would beat him for it, trying to convince him to let go. But he wanted this. He wanted this so much it hurt. He hadn't had a friend in so long he'd almost forgot what it was like. Andrew had looked up from his food, his eyes narrowed in confusion and mistrust. “Your mother doesn't want me here.”

“My mother doesn't want anyone here. She'll have to come around.”

Suddenly, Andrew put the cup down and reached out to touch him, lifting his chin up with two fingers. A pair of hazel eyes met his fake green ones, anchoring him to his spot. “Why are you putting so much effort into a lost cause?”

Chris sat there frozen for a while. Still he knew he wasn't afraid of Andrew. Whoever the boy might turn out to be, he could never be as bad as his father. He willed himself not to break he eye contact, and answered, softly: “Because I am a lost cause too,” Chris could see Andrew's face turn to stone, trying not to give anything away, but realisation and understanding had just crossed his eyes. “And I am the only one who won't judge you for it.”

Andrew finally let go of his chin.

“The first day you said no one gives help for free,” Chris continued. “Well, this is my request. Stay.”

“That's not a request, that's just selfishness. You don't gain anything from it,” Andrew said, just a tid bit colder. But Chris shook his head: “We'll figure it out with time, I guess.”

The door of the apartment opened, revealing a tired Norah. She looked at them for a moment, first at Andrew with a glare, then at her son a little bit softer. She pointed at their bedroom with her head, and Chris rose from the couch, giving then the blanket back to Andrew who shot him a curious look. “Think about it,” Chris said at the end, before he went after his mother and closed the door behind himself. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she definitely looked like she'd had enough of this story. Chris took a deep breath.

“Has he recovered?” She asked in French.

“Yes.”

“Is he ready to go?”

Chris gulped and his mouth formed a thin line when he refused to answer. He couldn't meet her gaze. He was such a disappointment. He'd slipped so much in the past years, time and time again, and she always slapped him so hard she left the print of her hand on his cheek. It wasn't like a scar; it would disappear wihin a few hours. But sometimes he still felt the sting of it, as a reminder of the things he should never do again. And this one thing was unforgivable.

She stood up, crossing the little room to where he was. “I will ask you again. Is he ready to go?”

“No...”

For a while nothing happened. She just stood there, barely breathing, until she raised a fist and threw it at the nearby wall with such strength that if it had been Chris' nose, she would have broken it. “What are you doing, Abram? Are you trying to get us killed?”

“He's just a kid, mom...”

“Don't give me that crap!” Chris flinched. “You're just a kid. A kid who's being followed by the Butcher. It's hard to keep ourselves safe as it is, don't make it even more difficult.”

“I know!” he raised his voice, knowing that Andrew was probably listening without understanding anything. “I'm aware of the risks, but I can't let him go. And I'm not letting you throw him out either.”

A noise of frustration came out of her mouth. “I was afraid of this. Which is why we're leaving, _without_ that boy. Tonight, once he's sleeping.”

_What?_ How did it come to this? “No.”

“I'm not giving you a choice.”

“Mom-”

With a sudden movement, she pinned him against the door, knocking the breath out of him. “I won't hear any word coming out of your mouth. You gave me your promise, and you broke it. Now deal with the consequences.”

She left him there in favor of taking a shower. Finally alone, Chris drew in a shaky breath and slid against the doorframe until he was on the ground. He cupped his face with his hands. Hope was a dangerous and disquieting thing, and he'd fallen pray of it once more. In a few hours he wouldn't be Chris anymore, and he'd leave Andrew with him, like nothing ever happened.

For the first time he wished he'd been strong enough to stand up to his mother.

 

* * *

 

It was the middle of the night when Norah woke him up. He reached for his backpackand and made sure that everything was still in its place, and then followed her into the living room. He glanced at the sleeping figure on the couch: Andrew was frowning, as if he was having a nightmare. He knew the feeling.

They passed him in silence, and when they reached the door, Chris didn't look back.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly midnight of the next day when they stopped at a motel. His mother had driven their rented car the whole day, without as much as a word to him. Not that Chris wanted to talk to her after what she did, but the tension was unbearable. They entered their room and while Norah went straight to the bathroom, he collapsed on his bed, hoping there wouldn't be fleas.

Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

Chris' head snapped up and he glanced at the bathroom first. His mother probably didn't hear it. He chose not to answer.

Seconds passed and he thought that whoever had knocked had gone away. But soon after they started picking at the lock, and Chris reached for the knife in his backpack. He stood up, pushing himself against the wall near the door. And once it opened, he quickly placed the weapon against the person's throath. Blond hair came into view, and a hand closed on his wrist.

“Andrew?” he said, with disbelief (and relief). What the hell was he doing there? And how... “How did you find us?”

He lowered the knife, but still held it tightly. What if he was really with his father? Had he miscalculated?

“I followed you here, dumbass. I heard you leave.” was his answer, as he let himself in. Andrew sat on his bed, where his backback lay, but didn't try to pry into it. “I thought you told me to stay. Didn't think you would leave me there.”

“You should have stayed where you were,” Chris grimaced.

“I don't like owing people,” Andrew said, recalling his own words. “And I always keep my promises.”

Chris sighed, finally putting down the knife. This was going to be another long night. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to, but my mom-”

“I get it now. Her behaviour.” the other interrupted. “She didn't want me there because she didn't trust me, even if you're stupid enough to do it somehow. You said your house was empty because you weren't planning on staying and here you are indeed. I say you're both running from something, or someone.”

Chris shifted in discomfort at that. He'd known Andrew was quite perceptive, but he'd read them completely. “So what if you're right?”

“Here's a deal,” the boy leaned on his elbows. “I stay with you and your mother and protect you from whatever you're running from, and you teach me how to fight with that knife.”

He snorted. “You can't _protect_ me. Even my mother can't.”

“What's going on here?” Norah came out of the bathroom to find the boy she'd supposedly left in Colorado talking with her son. She face went from shades of shock to anger and murder in an instant. “ _You?_ What are you doing here? Did you lead him to us?” she addresed Chris then, and he subconsciously recoiled as her hand shot up to hit him. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain, but it never came. As he reopened them he saw Andrew standing between the two of them, a bored look on his face, though his eyes betrayed annoyance.

“You shouldn't hit your son,” he said, and Chris thought he saw steam coming out of her nose. But then Andrew's mouth twisted into a mischievous grin and he thought that he'd never seen something quite as fearful as that. “Well now that I'm here, you should fill me in so I can live with you guys. Oh, and I despise lies.”

“Is there anything you don't despise?” Chris asked.

“Sweets.”

Norah's mouth twitched, and a sigh came out of it. She brushed her forehead, evdently thinking about a possible way out. Andrew was growing impatient while Chris dared to hope once more, because he was such an idiot. “Let's get out of here,” she said finally, and he swore he heard a faint sigh of relief coming from the other boy. It made him smile a little. “if you were able to follow us then anyone could track us down. And don't be so happy, kid. This is your fault, I wash my hands of it.”

Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing. But he thought perhaps he liked it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first part I guess. Coming next is the start of the actual story.   
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Oh, hey! Let's be friends! Come talk to me on tumblr at the account Elfo98.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew chases Chris and Norah and finally gets some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... don't know what this is. It's terrible, and short, and probably the worst chapter I've ever written in my life. But I needed to post something because I don't know when I will be able to update again. Also, I'm really sorry for making you wait.  
> School happened and my inspiration went on vacation (wow, that rhymes).   
> Next chapter will be more interesting, hopefully I'll post it soon...

Andrew supposed he should thank his instincts for waking him up when they did, otherwise he would have had to tell the truth about the soulmate thing to Chris and Norah, and he still wasn't ready for it. As soon as the door of the aparment cracked shut he startled awake, looking at the origin of the sound. The red thread was going right through the door, and he thought that it was weird that Chris would go out in the middle of the night. It was only when he heard the faint noise of a car's engine being turned on that everything clicked into place.

He stood up and went to check the bedroom, finding it even emptier than usual. Then he ran to the fridge, just to discover that all of the food was gone. Anger and disappointment flared through him as he stomped out of the building and into the chilling air of the night. He'd just made a promise to the idiot that he would stay, and now Chris was the one running away from him instead. Why? What happened that made him change his mind?

He found he didn't actually want to give up Chris' offer, even if he'd been hesitant on agreeing earlier... just because he owed him, of course. And sure, maybe the warmth radiating from the string when they were close was kind of addictive, and it was definitely clouding his better judgement, but the sudden cold he felt (and it wasn't for the weather) was also unbearable.

He gazed at his surroundings, squinting to see through the thick snow that was falling that night, until he spotted a car parked outside another house. He didn't have a license, but when he was thirteen Cass had brought him to an empty parking lot to drive a few times - before everything had gone downhill - and having an eidetic memory proved useful on certain occasions. He picked the lock of the car, which was wrecked and old and probably didn't have a proper alarm set. Then he sat behind the steering wheel and adjusted the seat. He had never done this before, but he'd seen it in movies: he picked up two cables and rubbed their ends together until sparkles flared out of them and the engine came to life. He almost smiled to himself. Almost. He would apologise for stealing the car in another life, maybe.

He really hoped no one would stop him, or he was screwed; he looked like a twelve years old still, what with his stature and childish face.

Without further ado he pushed the gas pedal and set out to follow the thread. Driving was terrifying and amazing at the same time; he knew nothing of road signs but managed to not kill himself in the long run, even if he never stopped driving once because the string kept going off into the distance. When he finally reached the end of it the sun had come up and gone down again, and he was tired and hungry but willed himself to knock on the door of the motel room. He definitely wasn't expecting the knife.

 

* * *

 

Hours later the three of them arrived at a new motel and checked in. It was 3:30 in the morning and they were all tired, but Andrew took a shower after Chris and then Norah started explaining their situation to him. He was surprised, at first, when she told him what kind of person her husband was. His life sucked, but he couldn't imagine how it would be standing so close to death.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said when she was done. Andrew pointed at Chris, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Your father is the Butcher of Baltimore and he's following you, because your mother here took you away from him six years ago, when you saw him killing a guy.”

“That's about it.” Chris - well, not Chris apparently - nodded, but Andrew noticed that Norah had taken an interest on the bag sitting on her lap. There was definitely more to the story than that, but it was evident that she didn't want her son to know, for whatever reason. Maybe she wanted to keep him at least safe from the truth. But Andrew hated secrets, especially if they made it difficult for him to protect someone. So he promised himself to unravel them as soon as possible.

“Alright,” he said eventually, and he couldn't stifle a yawn. He wanted so bad to lay down and get some sleep, but he was afraid that if he closed his eyes Norah would take Chris away from him again. And this time he didn't have the strength to chase them.

As if he'd read his mind, Chris cleared his throat and gave his mother a pointed look. “I'm beat. I'd rather rest than keep talking, and since we'll be living together there'll be plenty of time to catch up.” There was finality in his voice, like he was daring Norah to run, and Andrew knew then that it was safe, that Chris wouldn't follow her if she did. He didn't give her a choice; she would never leave without him, she wasn't that selfish.

When Andrew finally checked the person in front of him, now that he knew his story at least partly, he saw a broken boy who wore a hoodie twice his size to hide his scars, but he also saw the sun; a spark bruned inside of him, he was fierce and unmoving, and his will to live was still naively strong despite everything he'd had to go through. Andrew wished he had that too, but he'd lost it when he had entered juvie. He was a mess inside and out, but maybe, just maybe... Chris would teach him how to be alive again.

They settled on their beds, Andrew on the single and Chris back to back with Norah on the bigger one. He watched as the boy clutched his bag against his chest, as if he was afraid that someone would barge in the room and steal it, or maybe that Andrew would look inside it. He would have, but he didn't need to. He knew Chris would tell him what was hidden in it when he felt like it.

Andrew felt a pair of eyes on him and as he looked up at the other's face, he realized that while he'd been staring at Chris, Chris had been staring right back. He lifted an eyebrow, ignoring the way his stomach flipped, but the boy kept watching him like he was trying to take him apart and put the pieces back together. “I'm a sealed book, you can't read me.” he murmured, trying to sound annoyed. It seemed like their most interesting conversations always happened at night.

Andrew liked it, though. Throughout the years, he'd come to think of night as the worst part of the day: all the bad things happened during that time, because no one was around to stop them: as the city slept, no one would witness a single, helpless boy being attacked by the ones that should have protected him. Nights were tears, pain all over his body and muffled screams. They were pointless pleas and useless cries for help.

But these conversations were nothing of the sort; Andrew found relief in them, and peace, and quiet. Chris had already started to change him, and unaware of it he'd let him.

“I know,” was the other's soft response. “But I'll still find a way to break the seal.”

Nights were promises ushered in a low voice.

Andrew smirked. “I'd like to see you try.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here to read it, thank you so much! 
> 
> Also, if you want to talk to me, send me a message on Tumblr: Elfo98.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops out of the shadows* why, hello... It's been a while, huh?  
> I feel really bad for the huge delay, I hope you are all still here. School happened and then I had a hard time picking the story up again.  
> I hope you can forgive me.

It didn't take long for Chris to figure out that a healthy Andrew meant having to put up with his irritating attitude. As soon as they'd hit the road the morning after, Norah had wanted to reach the nearest city to buy new clothes and hair dye. The two of them were used to changing identities whenever they moved, but when Andrew had seen the contents of the bags the woman was carrying, he'd wasted no time to complain: “I'm not dying my hair.”

“Yes, you are,” Norah had replied, giving him a hard stare. “Or did you forget that you should be behind the bars right now?”

Andrew had clenched his fists, but even he knew when to shut up. Now they were headed to Phoenix to meet a guy, one of Norah's associates, who could give them new ID cards. Chris dreaded the moment when he wouldn't be, well, _Chris_ anymore. He quite liked that identity. Moving on from one personality to another was always tough; he had to forget everything he'd done until then and start anew, it was like killing parts of himself. He supposed that was what was expected of him. He was nothing, he would always be nothing, he couldn't have a real identity if he wanted to live.

As he watched the rocky landscape of Arizona run past them outside the car window, he mentally repeated the story they had agreed on. The Jostens were a family with a troubled past; they were hiding from an abusive man, Neil and Andrew's father (Andrew had been adamant on not changing his name), while their mother Caroline tried to take care of them with the little resources she had. It wasn't far from the truth, aside from the new family member.

Speaking of that, _Neil_ took a peek at the back where Andrew was sleeping. Wrinkles creased his forehead and his arms were crossed as if he was trying to close in on himself. Neil didn't know what had made the guy so wary of others, but if they were going to live together he had to know. He couldn't risk crossing boundaries and scaring him off. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Andrew's protection was almost a relief.

He couldn't help but think about his reaction when Caroline had nearly slapped Neil. No one had ever stood between him and his mother before, but then again, no one had ever tried to stop her in the first place. She was as fierce as a lioness, ready to attack whenever she spotted prey and she made sure not to hold back on Neil either. It was always submit or pay the price with her, and to see someone stand up to her unafraid... he couldn't believe his own eyes. To be honest, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He saw Andrew stir as the car suddenly came to a stop. Neil looked back outside. They were parked off-road, surrounded by cactuses and rocks. Furthermore, the sun was already setting.

“Out,” Caroline ordered, unbuckling her seatbelt. “We're hitchhiking the rest of the way.”

“We're in the middle of nowhere,” Andrew replied, quickly coming to the same conclusion as Neil. “Is this why we didn't stop for gas?”

She seemed unaffected by the venom in his voice, “We had to get rid of the car at some point, this is the easiest way. If you don't like it, you can stay here and slowly die of thirst.”

Andrew glared at her before he climbed out of the car, but Neil only shook his head. He just knew keeping them apart wasn't going to be easy. He got out, shivering at the sudden chilly air that hit him.They had to find a ride before the sun was completely gone or they wouldn't be able to bear the cold.

“This is just great,” Andrew complained lowly by his side. “There's no one around.”

“What, too lazy to walk?” Neil teased, cracking a little smile, even if he shared the boy's feelings: the car's warmth and comfort already seemed like a far-off memory. He frowned then. “Try not to get under my mother's skin already. You don't want to see her mad.”

“I don't need your concern, rabbit.”

“It's not concern, it's a warning,” Neil said, nonplussed. “Protecting me doesn't mean getting yourself hurt.”

Andrew gave him a weird look at that, one that Neil couldn't decipher. He really wanted to know what was going on in that head of his, but before he could ask Caroline's voice came to snap them out of their conversation. “Stop talking and start walking or I'll leave you both here.”

He sighed and Andrew shrugged, and they both hurried up after her.

Two hours later they were still walking on the rocky path next to the road. Neil's feet were sore and probably full of blisters, and he couldn't feel his cheeks anymore. The sun had just set and they could barely see anything in the dark of the desert. Plus, the only car they'd encountered had run past them like they weren't even there.

“Can't we take a break?” he asked his mother who walked just ahead of him and Andrew. Her back was hunched down, but aside from that, it looked like the cold didn't bother her at all, while he could hear the clattering of Andrew's teeth beside him.

“It'll be worse if we stop.”

“Shouldn't we look for shelter, at least?” he tried again. Andrew groaned in agreement. “No one's going to come this way now.”

Just as he said that he heard the sound of an engine coming from behind them. They all stopped to look at the blinding headlights approaching and slowly coming to a halt as Caroline put her hand out. A  man in his fifties with a red cap hiding his grey hair and a yellow jacket appeared from behind the window of his small truck. Neil gulped at the sight, he didn't trust any man that was his father age, and unconsciously took a step back.

“Excuse me,” his mother said, approaching the vehicle. “We've been walking for hours and you're the first driver to be so kind as to stop. We're headed towards Phoenix but our car has run out of gas miles ago... do you happen to go that way? I have cash to pay you with.”

The man eyed the two trembling boys, frowning. “It's not wise to walk in this cold, ma'am. You're lucky I'm headed there myself. I only have one seat in the front, though, so you two can hop on the back. Just be careful, there's some fragile furniture I need to deliver and my clients won't be happy if you break it.”

He climbed out to open the door of the trailer, revealing a huge space mostly occupied by boxes. He also turned on the light so they could see where they were going. A few seconds later, the truck was moving again.

Neil and Andrew sat at a small free spot against the metallic wall of the vehicle. Andrew was still trembling from head to toe, and Neil was afraid he might get sick again. He'd only just recovered after all. He searched for the blanket in his backpack, tossing it then to him without glancing up to see his reaction. He could feel Andrew's gaze piercing through him like glass. It took all of his will not to stare back.

“I'm starting to think it wasn't skill that saved you two all these years, it was luck.” the boy said, but when Neil gave him a puzzled look, he continued: “Your mother would have let us die of hypothermia if this guy hadn't come when he did.”

Neil smiled. “You wouldn't have let her.”

“And there's also the fact that you're a smart mouth,” Andrew replied. “It's a wonder it didn't get both of you killed.”

He hummed in agreement and then shrugged. His mother had said the same thing lots of times. “Who knows? Maybe someday it will.”

“You have a death wish. Why do I even bother with you?”

“It's the opposite, actually...” Neil closed his eyes, listening to the loud noise of the engine as the heat finally embraced his cold body. “I'm running from my father because I want to live, but even I know that this safe routine we seem to have fallen into won't always work. We've escaped death a few times already, while on the run. I may be an idiot, but I'm not as naive as you think I am. I feel like the current predicament won't last long.”

“What makes you say it?”

He felt like he was slowly drifting away, but before he could fall completely asleep, he responded softly: “Because it's nice.”

 

They arrived in Phoenix the morning after, and as soon as they'd paid the truck driver to thank him for his assistance, Andrew started pushing for breakfast. “It's the least you can do after this.” he used as an excuse. They still had some time to kill before they could meet Caroline's associate, so she didn't decline, but they still looked for a place that wouldn't draw much attention to them.

"That's disgusting," Neil grimaced as Andrew poured liters of syrup all over his pancakes.

"Everything about you is disgusting," the other responded, without so much as to glance up from his sugary breakfast. "You never hear me complaining."

Neil snorted: "You know, for someone who eats that much sugar you sure are bitter."

Finally, Andrew looked at him, if only for a little moment, annoyance clearly visible on his usually expressionless face. "Do me a favor and never make puns again before I change my mind and take back my promise."

Neil smirked, but let it go nonetheless.

Half an hour later they found themselves in a small and dark shop filled with computers and cameras. Caroline was talking to a tall man dressed in black, while Neil and Andrew waited in a corner. Said guy then proceeded to take photos of them and told Caroline that the IDs and her driving license would be ready in an hour or so. They spent that time looking for new clothes in a nearby convenience store, where they also bought bus tickets for later. When they finally retrieved their documents, Neil said goodbye to Chris for good. Sadness hit him as he thought of the people that knew him by that name and would wonder about what had happened to a person that didn't even exist, but he forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat and follow his mother outside.

They took the first bus to the outskirts of Phoenix and looked around the neighborhood for a place to stay. Eventually they found an old looking shack that had probably been abandoned for years. Yet another building Neil would have to adjust to, but that could never be called home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've waited three months just to read this, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Also special thanks to Andrw_Jstn. You're amazing and I would still be stuck without you reminding me to write ahahah
> 
> If you guys wanna chat, I'm Elfo98 on Tumblr.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Andrew's life in Phoenix begins... maybe a little roughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... Hi! It's been a while, yeah?  
> I'm sorry it took me so long, but I've had a rough few months and I really wasn't in the mood to write anything.  
> But now summer's begun, school's over and I'm as ready as I'll ever be to pick up my fics again!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Andrew wasn't one to be picky about something after the fourteen houses he'd lived in during his life but the current one beat them all. It looked like it had been abandoned for years; there were bottles of beer scattered here and there as well as syringes, a thick layer of dust covered the floor and spiders had made their nets everywhere. Not to mention the putrid scent of urine that could be smelled from miles away.  
He hadn't said anything, of course. Caroline looked like she would murder both of them on the spot if they dared open their mouths. Now she was sleeping on a dirty mattress, her back pressed against Neil's, who was out like a light too. However, Andrew couldn't sleep. He kept recalling the hope in Neil's eyes when he found out Andrew had followed him. He had a feeling the boy had never had a genuine friend, what with all the running and with his father being the Butcher. Andrew didn't know what to make of it: he didn't want to admit he liked to be the one to give meaning to the younger one‘s life.  On the other hand, he thought that the least he could do to help his soulmate was to make him happy somehow.  
Neil had said that this arrangement wouldn't last long. A part of him wanted it to be true, because the more he stayed with Neil, the more difficult it would be to deny their connection, but the selfish part of him hoped that nothing would happen.  
For the first time in his life Andrew felt free, so he didn't want to give this up.  
He rolled on his back and sighed, and as he watched a spider eat another insect that had been caught in the net, he finally drifted into sleep.  
  
When he woke up the next morning he found Neil sitting on the mattress with some papers on his lap. Andrew studied his face as he bit his bottom lip and his brows creased a little in concentration; he hadn't let himself think about it, but now that he had nothing to do and the other still wasn't aware that Andrew was awake, he took his time to look at the boy. Neil was attractive, he had to admit it. Even with dyed hair and contacts, his face was that of an angel, still unscathed, unlike the rest of his body probably. Despite that, you could see the signs of a life lived in fear in the way he chewed on his lips and how his fingers kept tapping on his legs, which were so evidently the legs of a runner.  
"Staring," Neil suddenly murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
Andrew scoffed and sat up, but still kept his eyes on the other, who finally returned the gaze. "Did you sleep well?" Neil asked. "I heard you toss around a lot."  
"This isn't the comfiest of beds." Andrew shrugged.  
"Yeah... my mother's gone to find a better place to stay. This one's bad even for us."  
He hoped that it didn't show on his face, but for once Andrew was grateful to Caroline for not letting them stay in a shelter for junkies.  
"Besides... there's no kitchen here. We'd have to eat a lot of cold meals and I have a feeling you wouldn't like it all that much." Neil smirked at him, earning himself another scoff (which proved him he was right). He picked up an energy bar from his duffel and tossed it to Andrew. "Here. This is your breakfast. It's all we have left, so we're gonna have to go to the nearest grocery store to buy some stuff. In the meantime, help me with this, will you?"  
Neil patted the spot on the mattress next to him and then lifted the sheets of paper as to get his point across. Andrew looked at the poor excuse of a breakfast in his hand and decided he would rather starve than eat that, before he got up and sat beside the boy. He reached out to grab the papers so he could have a better look at them; what he saw made him grimace: "School applications?"  
Neil nodded. "My mother brought them here while you were sleeping. She wants us to attend school and said we have to choose which classes we want to take."  
"I want German. And French."  
Neil frowned, confused as to why Andrew wanted to learn the same languages he spoke, but Andrew had thought about it a lot and he'd come to the conclusion that he didn't like to be cut out from a conversation. If he had to live with the two rabbits, he needed to understand as much as he could.  
"I could teach you those, it'd be quicker."  
"No," Andrew simply replied as he took the pen from Neil's hand and crossed the right boxes. "I want you to learn Russian with me."  
That definitely took Neil by surprise, and he was suddenly on alert: "Why?"

"So no one can understand us."  
"My mother will never let us, she wants to be in control. Speaking behind her back in a language she doesn't know would be unacceptable."  
Andrew clicked his tongue. "Then we won't speak it while she's around."  
Neil seemed to ponder the situation for a moment, Andrew could almost see the gears turning in his head. He remained silent for a few minutes, rubbing his nose and looking at his own application. Then he nodded again. "Okay. It might come in handy anyway."  
"You're planning on going to Russia?"  
"Maybe?" Neil shrugged. "I've already been to Europe, I might go back one day."  
Andrew had noticed that whenever Neil started talking about his past, his body would stiffen ever so slightly. No one better than him could understand how hard it is to relive moments that you try so bad to forget but, even with all your efforts, keep coming back to hit you.  Neil hadn't asked for a truth about his life before juvie yet, and he was secretly thankful, but he knew one day he'd have to tell him. And he wasn't ready.  
"My uncle is English, you know? He's my mother's brother. I met him when we went to England," Neil kept recalling, seemingly unaware that Andrew had silently put the papers on the mattress in order to listen to him. "He's a cool guy. The Hatfords are still part of the mob but he's nothing like my father. Uncle Stewart cares about his family." Neil lowered his eyes at that. "He's the one I'd call if... if something went wrong."  
"Why didn't you stay with him?" Andrew asked, because he couldn't fathom why Neil and Caroline had refused the protection of another mob boss in England. Surely the Butcher couldn't go that far. But Neil had a different opinion, apparently: "Because nowhere is safe. No matter where we go, he'll find us. And when he does, he'll kill us. Uncle Stewart doesn't have that much power over him. I don't understand why, but mom says his protection only goes so far."  
Andrew hummed. "Your mother seems to be keeping things from you."  
"I know. But it's not like I can ask her about it."  
They stood silent for a while, both at a loss as to what to say to break the tension that had formed. Andrew wanted to reassure Neil again that nothing would happen to him, that he would protect him. But how much did he know about the Butcher, really? If Stewart, a man with a lot more experience than him, couldn't even touch Neil's father, how was Andrew supposed to do it?  
"Well," the boy said, interrupting his train of thoughts. "If you're done with those applications, we should go to the grocery store. I want to go out while my mother isn't around." Then he stood up, waiting for Andrew to do the same, picked up his duffel from the dirty floor and headed out of the room.  
Andrew followed suit, not wanting to stay alone in that filthy building, and together they walked through the streets of Phoenix until they found the store they were looking for. When Neil took one of the carts, Andrew didn't waste a second to sit inside of it, and the boy regarded him with a perplexed look. "Are you serious? What are you, six?"  
"Seventeen."  
"Can't you walk?"  
"No."  
"Jesus, are you being childish on purpose?"  
"Yes."  
"Andrew-"  
Andrew glared at him. "Move."  
Neil sighed, but finally gave in and started pushing the cart. As they passed, people watched them like they were a couple of misfits and "Younguns these days. Where are their parents?". Andrew didn't understand how that was bad, he was simply tired of walking and he actually enjoyed being pushed in a cart. They weren't killing anyone, were they?  
In the end, Neil was forced to put all the items on top of Andrew, hoping that none of them would break, while on his part, Andrew made him stop only once to pick up a red rubber ball that he started to toss.  
They were almost done when suddenly Neil came to a sudden stop in front of the magazines' department. Andrew followed his gaze and found an Exy magazine with the cover colored in black and red, and a couple of young boys grinning at the camera in the middle. Andrew recognized them as Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day, the two best strikers in the history of Exy. He didn't care much about them, but Neil was staring at the magazine like he wanted to read it, but was afraid that it might come to life and bite him.  
"Don't tell me you're a junkie," he said, making him jump as if he'd completely forgotten about Andrew's presence. When Neil finally tore his eyes away from the object, Andrew could see a spark of desire in them, but it vanished quickly. He waited patiently for an explanation while the other tried regain back his composure.  
"I played with them once," he answered eventually, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I was at Evermore because Tetsuji wanted me to join his team if I proved that I was worthy enough. But then my father killed a man and my mom took me away..." he took a deep, shaky, breath. "The first thing my mother did was to break my racquet and beat Exy out of me, made me promise not to play ever again, not even watch or talk about it. It's taboo. I know better than to want it but... sometimes, I miss it. I miss the excitement before a game, the feeling of the racquet in my hands, the fatigue that comes from hard training and not from running away from someone. And whenever I see Kevin and Riko, they remind me of who I used to be and what I could have had."  
Andrew watched him for a moment before he got out of the cart to stand in front of him. He took Neil's chin with his fingers and made him look up. Their faces were now inches apart, Andrew could feel the other's breath on him as he searched the truth in Neil's eyes.  
"You want to play again," he said.  
Neil bit his bottom lip again, as he did when he was nervous. "I can't."  
And Andrew frowned because sometimes that guy could be infuriating, and he was almost angry at him. "Yes, you can. You don't have to follow everything your mother says."  
"It's what kept me alive all these years" Neil replied, a little annoyed and probably conflicted as well, which was understandable since Andrew was questioning everything the other had known since he’d run away.  
"Maybe it's time you found your own way of surviving." Andrew shot back. "If you keep denying yourself what makes you happy, you're going to become numb to everything. You're like a dead man walking!"  
"Sounds to me like you're speaking from experience." There was no venom in his voice, maybe just a bit of sarcasm mixed with anger, but it effectively shut Andrew up. He gritted his teeth, knowing he'd lost this round, but made sure his next words got through. He wasn’t going to stay quiet, not when he could still save the guy in front of him. Andrew didn’t believe in regret, but even he sometimes wondered whether his life could have been different if he hadn’t given up on it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to watch Neil throw his away.    
"So what if it's true? My point still stands. Is this what you strive to become?"  
They were attracting attention to themselves, and maybe having this conversation now and in this environment wasn't the best idea. Neil seemed to be aware of that too, because he stomped his foot on the floor and said: "Whatever," before he started pushing the cart away from Andrew.  
They didn't talk to each other on the way back to the shack, and when Caroline returned that night, she found them on different sides of the room, ignoring each other the best they could. She made them pack their things again, saying she found a suitable place to stay. Thankfully, she didn't question their behavior, and if she sent Andrew a glare once, he did his best to overlook it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here to read this, thank you!  
> And a special thanks goes to Andrw_Jostn because she's amazing and I don't know what I'd do without her.
> 
> Let's be friends! I'm Elfo98 on Tumblr.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Andreil fluffy interactions and... something Neil shouldn't do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back again! I've been good this time, it took me only three months lol though this is a little short...  
> I'm worried I made them both a bit OOC in this chapter. Idk, I was just going with the flow cause I wanted to write. Whoops.  
> Well, enjoy!

Going back to school was a relief. Neil didn't actually like the environment but everything was better than staying at home with Andrew. A week had passed since their 'fight' and they still hadn't talked about it... or talked at all, for what mattered. Every time they were in the same room, there was so much tension that Neil could cut it with a knife.

If he had to be completely honest, he wasn't that angry anymore, but he wasn't ready to admit that Andrew was right. The guy had known him for only a few weeks and he already knew where to hit. The thought should have scared him, made him wary, but he couldn't bring himself not to trust Andrew. He didn't understand why, but there was something pulling him towards the boy and he just couldn't... let go. He looked at Andrew and thought of safety, which was ridiculous because safety didn't belong in his fucked up life.

Neil sighed as he took his place at the back of the empty math class. He had a few minutes to spare before it started to fill up with screaming teenagers, so he checked his duffel bag to make sure everything was still there. He noticed immediately the white piece of paper laying on his clothes and almost panicked, thinking someone had opened the bag when he wasn't looking, but relaxed when he saw the handwriting.

_Meet me on the roof at lunch._

Andrew had probably snuck it in that morning and Neil couldn't help but smile. They still saw each other every day, their deal hadn't been broken... but he couldn't deny he missed their interactions. So if he thought about it for the rest of the class it wasn't his fault.

  
  


Two hours later he was on his way to the roof, his bag hanging on his left shoulder and head bent down not to attract attention. He was almost there when suddenly a pair of feet appeared in his line of sight. He looked up to see a guy at least three inches taller than him staring down at him with a smirk. “Hey, new kid. You should pay attention to your surroundings, you almost ran into me.”

Neil grimaced. He'd hoped to avoid bullies this time, but somehow they always found their way to him. “You were the one to stop in front of me.” He took a step to the side but a hand came from behind and grabbed his shoulder. He flinched, and it took him all of his willpower not to break the other guy's arm right there and then. “Why the rush? We just want to be friends, right Cal?”

“Sure!”

“Yeah,” Neil snorted. “You need to work on your lying skills, dude. Now, get out of my way and I won't bother you guys again.”

The big guy in front of him – Cal – burst out laughing. “Look, Ned. This one's got guts! I wonder how much it's gonna take to break him.”

“I wonder how much it's gonna take _me_ to break both of you,” said someone behind Cal, and even though the new person was hidden by the boy's body, Neil could have recognized the voice anywhere. He instantly felt more confident and knew he could take them down without help.

“It's okay, Andrew. I can handle it.” He moved so quickly that none of them saw it coming: he took Ned's arm and bent it behind his back, then pushed him against his other aggressor. They both fell on the floor with muffled groans, too surprised to even react.

“Next time you better leave me alone.”

Neil smirked again; it was one of his father's smiles and he hated it, but it felt good to be able to scare them away. They scrambled up and ran with the tail between their legs.

“That should do it,” he said, turning back to Andrew, who was assessing him with a strange look in his eyes. It wasn't quite admiration... maybe respect. In any case, Neil had trouble deciphering it.

“Shall we go?”

The expression vanished – Neil almost regretted ruining the moment – and Andrew nodded, making way for the both of them. They went up the stairs in silence, Neil sneaking glances at Andrew every now and then. Once on the roof, he followed the other to the edge where they sat side by side. “Tall,” he commented, looking down. Neil wasn't afraid of heights, but he wondered if he'd survive the fall from there. Andrew hummed next to him, already focused on his food, so Neil shrugged and decided to do the same.

They sat quietly for a while, just eating. Neil's limbs were starting to go numb from the cold when Andrew finally started talking: “Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head.

“But the guy touched you.”

Neil shrugged again.

Andrew's eyes narrowed. “That's not an answer.”

“Yours wasn't a question” he replied. “It made me uncomfortable but I'm used to it. They got what they deserved.”

“Martyr...” Andrew murmured, his hands were clenched on his sides like he wanted to break something. Neil didn't understand why he cared so much. The boy was risking his life for someone who wasn't even worth the fight, and he went to such lengths to make sure Neil was happy that... it made him feel stuff he couldn't quite comprehend yet. Like Andrew putting himself between him and his mother, asking him what he really wanted. It was something nobody had ever done before, and it was so new and scary at the same time.

“Sorry for... you know,” he said, quietly. “last week.”

Andrew didn't respond, but a slight nod told Neil he'd been forgiven already. He smiled, more relieved than he'd expected to be.

“You look like an idiot,” the other pointed out. There was no inflection in his voice, but Neil decided not to take it too seriously.

“Can't deny it. Look at all the horrible choices I'm making.” he retorted, and Andrew turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Like keeping you.”

“I'm not some kind of pet, I make my own decisions. I'd stay even if you didn't let me.”

“Doubt it.”

Andrew glared at him but dropped it. He either didn't want to say what he was really thinking or knew he'd lose this round if he kept talking. Instead, he changed the subject: “I'm going to the exy court near the library after school. I want you to play with me.”

Neil frowned. He was remembering why he'd been angry in the first place. “I told you. If my mom finds out, she's gonna beat the crap out of me. It's dangerous for you as well, Andrew. She's not gonna be so merciful with you because she doesn't need you. She'll kill you if she thinks you're trying to blow up our cover, or she'll force me to leave you behind again. I don't want to.”

“You're not allowed to say no.”

“Andrew, you're not listening...”

“No,” Andrew snapped. “I am listening. I don't care, I'll take the blame. But you need to have at least one thing that makes you feel like your life is more than just running away.”

Neil went quiet, but his mind was in turmoil. He wanted to play again so bad, but not if it meant putting his family in danger. Still... playing once wouldn't be so bad, right? He didn't have to keep doing it, just once would be sufficient.

He sighed, closing his eyes as another gust of cold wind hit his face. He was too weak. “Okay, but... only today.”

Andrew seemed happy with his response because he turned away and got up. Neil realized that lunch break was almost over and blinked, time always passed too quickly when he was with Andrew. He hurried up and followed the other inside, and then they parted ways with the promise to meet each other at the entrance after school. They didn't have any classes in common in the afternoon.

  
  


When the final period was finally over, Neil launched himself out of his seat and literally ran to their meeting point where Andrew was already waiting. Without saying anything, they began to walk to the exy court.

He didn't want to admit it, but Neil was excited. He couldn't wait to wear the exy gear again.

The court was small and anonymous. It was a public facility so there were a few people inside, training. They paid for the equipment and went to the locker room to change. Neil immediately went to the bathroom because he didn't want Andrew to see his scars. Luckily they were alone.

In less than fifteen minutes they were both ready. Neil picked up his racquet and looked at it like it was the best thing he'd held in a long time; it probably was. It wasn't a good racquet per se: it was a little ruined by the excessive usage and its colors were almost gone, but it served its purpose.

“Stop looking at it like you're in love,” came in Andrew's voice and Neil finally looked at him.

“You're a goalie.”

Andrew shrugged like he didn't care; he probably didn't. “You're gonna have to play striker.”

Neil frowned. “But I'm a backliner.”

“Exactly,” the other replied. “Nobody's gonna recognize you if you play a different position.”

It made sense, in a way, and to be fair Neil had always wanted to try and be a striker. “Okay, let's go.”

As soon as they hit the court Neil almost forgot about everything else. The weight of the racquet felt so good in his hands, and he picked up his old habits quickly enough. He wasn't as good anymore, but his reflexes were still sharp due to years on the run and he was having the time of his life. He tried to score on Andrew, but his aim was terrible and the other always blocked his shots anyway.

Andrew, though, didn't seem to put in much effort. He looked like he was bored out of his mind and was doing this just for Neil's sake. Andrew was an enigma, and Neil wondered if he would ever be able to solve it.

Eventually, they took a break and sat down on the bleachers outside the court. Neil was still feeling the adrenaline buzzing in his veins. He hadn't felt so alive in years, and that probably wasn't a good thing. It was easy being detached from everything when he knew he had a foot already in his grave, but what he felt when he played... gave him hope.

“What are you thinking?” Andrew asked, completely unfazed, as if he hadn't just played for a straight hour.

Neil knew not to listen to his traitorous mind, to follow reason. But, just like at lunch, he was too weak. “I'm thinking we should do this again.”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love seeing your comments, they make me really happy!  
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Let's be friends, follow me on Tumblr: Elfo98


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens, that's all there is.  
> Warning: there are mentions of rape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I'm sorry about the time jump. I'm really bad at writing the middle of stories and couldn't think of anything else to put before this.  
> Also, this is where I start straying from canon.   
> I thought this chapter would be longer but I was wrong. And if there are errors, I'm sorry, it's midnight ahaha I'm tired.

Without any of them noticing they began a new routine. In the morning they would part with Caroline and go to school while she went to work, with the promise to text each other if something happened. Then, depending on the days, they’d hit the exy court to practice or study Russian at the nearby library. Neil would also occasionally teach Andrew how to use the knives or spar with him.

Months passed just like that and somehow Neil’s mother never found out about their activities. Unfortunately, the money Neil was allowed to carry with him was almost finished and they were soon left with a choice to make.

One day in the middle of May they were at the exy center, both drenched in sweat after two hours of practice. Andrew was chugging down a bottle of water, not used to moving so much anymore; that day he’d had to put in actual effort because Neil had stepped up his game lately and he’d become pretty good at aiming at the goal.

There was a soft smile on his face, one that Andrew caught himself looking at. He wanted to wipe it off Neil’s mouth… with his own. It was infuriating how much his feelings for the boy had become even stronger within a few months. At first, he’d tried to suppress them, didn’t want to acknowledge them and dismissed them as protectiveness, but he couldn’t anymore. He had dug his own grave, with the warmth of the red string always reminding him where he was and who Neil was. He wanted to leave the rabbit and his sorry excuse of a mother behind, but no matter how he tried he found himself anchored to the ground.

“We should stop,” said Neil, so suddenly that Andrew almost dropped the bottle, hoping that the boy hadn’t noticed him staring. But the striker wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on his feet, the smile replaced with a pout and a frown.

Andrew wanted to smack him for being so pretty even with his hair attached to the sweaty forehead.

“Why?” he asked instead.

“If we keep spending money my mother is bound to catch up on what we’re using it for. And I can’t ask her for more.”

“I thought you liked this?”

“I do, but...” Neil sighed. “I’m finally back into shape now. If we become any better someone will notice and try to recruit us. I’d like to avoid that too.”

Andrew hummed. He’d been thinking about it as well. The fact that the two of them were always there to train had caught the attention of a few people, who now saluted them every time they saw the pair. He didn’t care, but if word got out it could be seriously dangerous for Neil.

“Okay,” he nodded. “So what do you suggest we do from now on?”

Neil lifted his head, pensive. “Well, we’re pretty good at Russian, but it’s better if we keep practicing. And then we could rest.”

“You sure you want to keep me around? I don’t have anything to offer to you anymore, protection aside.”

“Your company,” Neil turned to look at him with a strange light in his eyes. “That’s all I need.”

Andrew scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t say stupid things.”

How could he say that with a straight face and not feel embarrassed?

And why did he have to laugh like that? Like he knew how to get to him. He hated it so much.

“Go shower, you stink,” he pushed Neil towards the stairs, returning the smirk the other gave him with a mocking salute. He would follow soon, but by now Andrew was aware of Neil’s shower habits. He was still hiding his scars from him and Andrew partly wanted to ask him to show them, but he also didn’t want to step on a boundary. Caroline would send him death glares when she found him studying Neil, maybe she was still afraid Andrew was some kind of spy for Nathan and would turn on them soon.

Andrew disliked her and her manners, but he could see that she cared deeply for her son and he appreciated it. That was why he hadn’t killed her yet– and the fact that Neil would never forgive him.

He waited until the striker was all dressed and went to take a shower himself. Neil was sitting on a bench when he got out; he was making sure everything was still in his place in the duffel bag. He checked one, two, three times, counted the money and then finally looked up to greet Andrew: “Ready to go?”

Andrew nodded and they walked out of the building together. Neil stopped for a second as if to say goodbye to that place, and Andrew hated that he had to. He’d never seen the other looking so alive like when he was playing exy, or smile as much as he did when he managed to score on Andrew. He hated that life had fucked them both up so much that they couldn’t even enjoy the simple things. He hated Neil for making him feel things like worry and _fear_.

That night he replayed the last goal Neil made before they stopped for the day, and how he’d run across the court like he’d just won the Olympics. It was stupid, but it was so _Neil_ that it had almost made Andrew smile.

 

Morning came too quickly for Andrew’s liking and school was as boring as every other day. They met on the rooftop at lunch and went to the library in the afternoon. Neil had to work on an assignment for history, so they sat at a computer post and while the boy worked Andrew surfed the net looking for news. What he did next he blamed it on boredom. In hindsight, it had been idiotic and there was no excuse for it, but unfortunately, he didn’t have the power to turn back time.

Andrew opened his e-mail.

What caught his eyes first was the amount of spam he’d received. He didn’t have many friends – none at all – so there was no way anyone would send him an actual mail. But then he scrolled down a bit and almost gasped. There, where it shouldn’t be, was an unopened and recent message by a familiar address. Too familiar.

He checked on Neil to make sure he wasn’t paying attention to him, but the boy was asleep on the desk with his research glaring at him on the computer screen. Andrew gulped and, with trembling hands, opened the e-mail.

 

_So you managed to break out of juvie, AJ._

_I’m impressed._

 

How did Drake know? At this time of year, he should have been with the marine. But the date read May 2nd.

 

_You were always the rebellious type, I remember it clearly. That was what made everything between us so much fun, wasn’t it? You, trying to escape my clutch and coming undone underneath me. Don’t you miss those days?_

_I wonder if your brother would be like that too?_

 

Andrew didn’t realize he was gripping his knee so hard until it started hurting. He felt sick, wanted to close the tab, delete the e-mail and forget it ever existed. But the mention of Aaron stopped him in his tracks.

 

_You know the new social network they_ _invented_ _? Facebook. It’s amazing how much info you can gather just by looking at someone’s profile. S_ _ingle, 17, lives in_ _Columbia_ _…_ _there’s also an e-mail address. You think he’d meet me if I asked him to?_

 

Andrew couldn’t take it anymore. He clicked on ‘respond’ and quickly started typing his answer. There was only one way to prevent all of this and he didn’t like it at all. But he’d cook up a plan, he had to. He wasn’t going to submit again.

 

_You stay the fuck away from Aaron, Drake, or that will be the last thing you’ll ever do on this fucking planet._

_If it’s me you want, I’ll tell you where I am, but if you send here the pigs I will find you and slit your throat in your sleep. I don’t care what Cass thinks about me._

_Meet me in Phoenix in five days. There’s an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts, I’ll send you the address the day before that. Remember, just you and me. If I find out you touched Aaron, you’re a dead man._

 

He hit send and immediately closed all tabs. He wanted to break something, throw the chair at a bookshelf, hit someone. He was angry at himself for giving up like that, still trying to protect a twin he didn’t even care about.

Or thought he didn’t care about.

Actually, it meant he cared too much if he was going to such lengths.

It made him furious.

He scrolled Neil’s shoulder, maybe a bit too harshly, and told him to get up. Or not. It was his choice. He was going out for a bit.

“Andrew?” the boy asked, barely stifling a yawn, but Andrew was already out of his seat and walking out of the library. He couldn’t look at Neil. Not after what he just did.

He needed a plan and quickly.

 

Andrew avoided Neil as much as he could the following days. They studied together and did everything else like always, but he refused to explain his sudden disappearance from the library. Neil had had to go back home alone and Andrew hadn’t returned until midnight. The boy was worried sick, he’d thought someone had got to him and why the hell hadn’t he texted? Andrew had shrugged and gone to bed. He hadn’t even noticed the glare Caroline had sent him the morning after.

Andrew was sure that if he asked Neil for help, he would come running. But Andrew didn’t want him to see Drake, nor put him in danger. And if all of this was a trap at least the police would only catch him.

His hand was trembling as he picked up the knife Neil gave him and hid it in the armband he’d bought. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it: a corpse covered in blood was hard to hide, and people would surely notice Drake’s disappearance. They would look for him.

That’s why he’d come up with a plan to make sure his abuser’s death wouldn’t lead to him. He put on a pair of gloves and grabbed his main weapon.

“This better work...” he said to himself, too quietly for Neil to hear. He was terrified. He didn’t want to relive the past once again, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do anything about it.

“Neil” he called while making sure to hide his hands in the pockets of the coat. “I’m going to the grocery store. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He heard shuffling and sure enough Neil was immediately by his side. “I’ll come with you.”

Andrew shook his head, barely concealing the terror in his eyes. He always managed to keep a neutral expression, it didn’t come as a surprise that this was the one thing that could break his facade. “No, stay here. I just need cigarettes.”

Neil eyed him curiously. Andrew knew right then that he hadn’t picked up on his lie – he’d always been a bad liar – and at least hoped Neil wouldn’t follow him.

“Stay,” he said again. It almost sounded like a goodbye. He didn’t want it to be.

Andrew closed the door behind himself and slowly began walking towards his demise.

Soon he felt like his body was moving on his own, his feet bringing him to the warehouse on their own accord. He breathed in, and out, and in, and out again. When he finally reached his destination, he was ready.

He pushed the front door open, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of urine, then went up the stairs trying not to make any noise.

Drake was waiting for him there, in the room where Andrew, Neil and Caroline had slept their first night in Phoenix. It seemed like such a long time ago, but it was only a few months.

Drake turned to look at him, a smirk tugging at his disgusting lips. He hadn’t changed a bit, but Andrew really wasn’t surprised. The man had an empty bottle of vodka in his hand, which he’d probably drunk on his way here.

“Long time no see, little brother. Missed me?” Drake said.

Then suddenly, he attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think?
> 
> Let's be friends! I'm Elfo98 on Tumblr.


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